


I want to be king in your story

by theburningbread



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Unrequited Love, brief Geralt/female OC, mentions of switching, toxic sex in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theburningbread/pseuds/theburningbread
Summary: “I think I made that fairly obvious. I’m not trying to pressure you, you’re a fully grown… Witcher, you can make your own choices. I just want to know what changed? Am I losing my touch? No one’s ever complained about my sexual abilities before so if you have a review to leave I’m all ears.” Now Jaskier looked mad too like he was allowed to be mad about this.Geralt should have thought about it, should have filtered what went from his brain to his mouth but he didn’t, “Jaskier I’m over a hundred years old and you are without a doubt the worst fuck I’ve ever had in my life.”~~Geralt and Jaskier have a robust sex life full of miscommunications and hidden feelings that had to come out sooner or later.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 30
Kudos: 470





	I want to be king in your story

**Author's Note:**

> While neither of them handle their sexual experiences well in the beginning the sex is consensual from both sides. Very much an “I’ll take what I can get” kind of a thing that’s not healthy but they work it out.

Geralt was growing tired. 

Over a hundred years of life, most of them spent slaying monsters common folk only told horror stories of. Traveling back and forth across the continent looking for the work no one else could take and no one could properly pay for. Being shunned, spat at, chased from towns he was there to solve problems for, more often than he was welcome. But this, this was what made him finally tire, his new sex life.

He wasn’t tired of the sex itself, the last year that he’s spent fucking Jaskier had been some of the best sex of his life. He was getting tired of the fact that Jaskier wanted to fuck and wanted to be able to pretend he wasn’t fucking Geralt. 

Geralt hadn’t noticed it the first couple of times. Assumed his behavior in bed was just another one of the bard’s “quirks”. Jaskier didn’t seem to be a huge fan of kissing which was surprising but fine. He seemed to prefer choking himself on Geralt’s dick instead, stroking himself off at Geralt’s feet, or fingering himself open for Geralt to fuck him. In the beginning, Geralt just thought he was trying to be… efficient? But that was clearly not the case. 

Jaskier tolerated Geralt’s kisses for as little as he could get away with. 

He fingered himself open _every_ time. Jaskier had always done it himself, despite that being one of Geralt’s favorite things to do to a partner. He turned down Geralt’s attempts until he stopped trying to get inside the bard with anything but his cock.

Geralt knew for a fact that he would be better at it because Jaskier fucked him on occasion as well. The prep for it was always quick, _efficient_ , the bare minimum preamble, enjoyable only because at least he was getting something.

Geralt had thought that in their many years on the road together that he had been very aware of what Jaskier’s sex life was like long before it was aquatinted with his. But apparently having sex with Geralt was about as pleasant as pulling teeth. 

He knew what Jaskier sounded like in someone else’s bed. He’d heard it time and time again, moans, whimpers, laughter. Geralt had heard Jaskier in the next room over composing sonnets about how wet the woman he was with was before sliding his fingers in her to prove his point. Or the time he’d tried to teach a partner how to dance just to end up getting fucked against the wall Geralt’s bed was connected to. 

Jaskier was happy, well-liked, easily welcomed into bed. So despite the worry Geralt had of losing his bard, he had welcomed him as well. 

There was no happiness in Jaskier’s sex with Geralt. No laughter, no jokes, not even their normal rapport. It was actually the only time in Geralt’s life he’d witnessed the bard be quiet. Geralt had worried having a sex life together would ruin their friendship, it was possible whatever this was, was actually worse. 

Their daily relationship had become strained. The only good nights of rest Geralt got was after the sex, without it he lay there thinking of all the easier ways that Jaskier could tell him he hated him. Better to just admit the magic of being around Geralt had run out instead of driving a wedge deeper and deeper between them with each tumble between the sheets.

Although Jaskier practically did admit the end was coming, just not in as many words. He spent most of their days now complaining about his lack of creativity, his “bardly accomplishments” dwindling as time went on. Geralt took them directly to heart, telling Jaskier he didn’t need to be there, or that Geralt didn’t have to tell him what was happening on hunts. 

Comments like that these days led to fights. Geralt didn’t think he used to be so mean, or Jaskier so perpetually wounded.

But they would still fall into each other’s beds, or bedrolls, like the hit of a drug you knew left you ruined after.

The sex was so good, and so bad all at once.

Geralt hadn’t fucked someone who would face him since he last saw Yennefer almost two years ago. Jaskier didn’t look at him, ever. Didn’t or couldn’t Geralt didn’t know but it explained why Jaskier kept their faces close for as little time as possible. At the moment Geralt would always mourn the loss of the mouth he wanted to explore, right up until that mouth was curling around his cock. The things he could do with his tongue could likely kill a lesser man, and his stamina was unmatched, likely a result of never shutting the fuck up.

And how could he worry about not being able to see the man’s face when he was turned around and laid on his chest so he could reach behind himself and spread his ass open for Geralt. 

Why would he think about the fact that Jaskier no longer touched him outside of bed when he was wrapped around the man completely, pinning him to the bed to rut into him with his forehead resting on the back of Jaskier’s neck.

On one of the very, very few nights Geralt was fucking Jaskier in a position where he wasn’t face down, was the night that ended any hope left he had for Jaskier’s value of him. 

Jaskier was laying on his side on the bed. One leg was trapped between Geralt’s own, the other held high in the air. Geralt’s big hand had wrapped around the bottom of Jaskier’s thigh to keep it pushed up and out of his way while spreading the man as wide open for him as he could get. 

Geralt himself couldn’t believe how immensely he was enjoying the sex just from the ability to _see_. The room was dark but enough moonlight filtered in from a small window that with Geralt’s eyes it was like the room had been doused in light. He felt like a voyeur with Jaskier spread out before him like this, he only kept snapping his hips forward because that meant he could keep looking. 

The moonlight made everything a soft blue color, Jaskier’s skin shone in the light like a beacon. Geralt watched with envy as Jaskier’s free hand slid up and down his own body. He squeezed at his own chest, twisted a nipple, trailed fingers over a soft stomach to slide through the precome he’d dripped there before taking his cock in hand to stroke it in time with Geralt’s hips. It was so breathtakingly open, Jaskier had always looked beautiful in blue.

He wanted to bend over and put his mouth on him, trace the same path nimble fingers had just taken except with his tongue. He wanted to suck bruises into the long line of his unblemished neck, run his fingers through the thick hair on his chest, lick away the puddle beneath his belly button. But more than anything he just wanted to see his face.

Despite the uniquely open position Jaskier had pulled a pillow from the bed on top of his face, keeping it pressed there with a clenched hand. Hiding under the thing with the rest of his body spread out in front of Geralt who groaned at the sight and the tight slick squeeze around his cock. 

He kept seeing little glimpses of Jaskier’s face. A panting open mouth, his eyes clenched shut, soft messy hair sticking to his skin. Geralt just wanted to see him. The mouth that rested in a smile, plush round cheeks, soft brown hair pushed back from his forehead. Geralt had wanted too much. 

So he made a mistake.

It must have been unexpected enough for Jaskier not to fight it. Geralt bent over him, spreading Jaskier’s legs wider with a soft moan coming from the bard’s throat at the movement, all so he could grab the pillow and toss it off the bed.

The moment it was gone Jaskier’s eyes went wide as he stared up at Geralt. It wasn’t the expression Geralt had expected, he just wanted to see the man happy, enjoying himself. He just wanted to see Jaskier for once while he fucked _Jaskier_. But he felt his blood run cold at the look on his face. Without a word, Jaskier pulled his thigh out of Geralt’s grip and flipped himself onto his stomach. He pushed his ass back into the air and buried his face in the sheets below them. 

Geralt kept going. If their sex had been mechanical before it was nothing compared to what was happening at that moment. Eventually, he felt Jaskier tighten around him and he could smell his come. Geralt followed soon after, pulling out and coming across one of the perfect globes of Jaskier’s ass, one he didn’t even feel like he was welcome to touch. 

Geralt felt cold as he settled in next to the man who had only moved enough to pull a soiled sheet over his body. Geralt’s head rested directly on the bed, the pillow he had pulled off Jaskier still on the floor, the other under Jaskier’s head, but there was a hollow weight in his chest that kept him down. 

In the morning he tossed the other on the bed before Jaskier had woken up so no one needed to know.

A few days later in a different room, in a different city. Jaskier tried again, like nothing of note had even happened the last time they’d been together.

“I’m not interested, go find that barmaid who wouldn’t keep her hand off your ass,” Geralt had said and Jaskier listened. Coming back to their bed that night to slip in beside Geralt with the smell of a woman’s cunt smeared across his face and fingers. 

A few days later, when he could almost sense the offer coming again Geralt went to a whorehouse instead. 

It had been a while, he hadn’t fucked anyone else since Jaskier had kicked off their release only escapades. She was an elf, pretty and tall with long blonde hair. Geralt always went with elves if a place had one, substantially less likely to reek of disgust while fucking him. 

She didn’t seem to mind when Geralt kept her on her back, pressing kisses all over her face and neck while he took his time fingering her open. She’d come twice before he’d slipped inside of her. Her legs up around his hips, arms wrapped around his shoulders, thin fingers buried in his hair. 

It was practically stifling compared to the sex he’d had over the last year. She let him touch her where he wanted, guided his fingers into rhythms she liked. She held him close after realizing on her own that’s what he wanted. Letting him tuck his face against her neck, not shying away from his inhuman eyes when he pulled back to look at her. 

He was surprised when he came that she actually tightened around him. A delicate hold he could have broken but one that asked him to come inside of her. He supposed sterile, disease-free Witchers probably made great patrons in that respect. 

He had held her close after, shaking against her body, his breath catching in his throat when she kissed his temple and smoothed a hand up and down his arm to calm him down. He stayed with her for long enough she had to ask for more coin before he left but he was happy to provide it. 

Her eyes were kind as he went, they looked understanding. He didn’t know if she was understanding the pain of finding companionship as another inhuman, or if she had seen enough patrons come through seeking love where they couldn’t find it at home that the look on his face was just that recognizable.

He appreciated it either way.

Enough so that he knew he couldn’t go back to it. Maybe it was enough for Jaskier just to have a bed warmer, but it wasn’t enough for Geralt. He wouldn’t expect love, for someone like him? That was a fucking joke and he knew it. But it was even more foolish to have expected their friendship to survive Geralt’s selfish desires for more.

Knowing that they couldn’t recover from his mistake, that it was harder at this point being together than apart, Geralt made a choice. The next time Jaskier blew out the candle so he didn’t have to look at Geralt’s face and climbed into bed on top of him Geralt had dumped him off with an indifferent, “I’m not doing this with you anymore.”

Geralt could taste the disappointment in the air when Jaskier realized he’d have to go somewhere else and work harder for his fuck but all the human said was, “okay,” before rolling away from Geralt and going to sleep. 

Not having sex didn’t fix their relationship. Geralt had tried to squash the hope that it would before Jaskier had done it himself. It didn’t matter either way in the end. Nothing improved.

The wedge they’d be pushing between themselves was irrelevant now, the space between them cosmic, unfillable. Jaskier stopped complaining about his work which was the only thing he had been talking about at this point. Their days were passed in silence, a thick heavy silence that poisoned the air around them.

A decade of friendship, easy smiles, shared celebrations. All Geralt did anymore was think of their past. Jaskier dancing around a full tavern throwing exaggerated winks at Geralt as he passed through an adoring crowd. Or making Geralt wait for him while he told groups of little townschildren wildly exaggerated tales of his hunts while amazed parents watched from nearby.

Sometimes at night when Geralt had the hardest time sleeping, he would imagine Jaskier treating him like he used to after a hunt. Helping him remove heavy armor as best as he could. Gentle hands cleaning wounds, fingers working quick to apply salves or stitch something together with a hint of worry on the bard’s lovely face. The worry not about what happened, but at the thought, he might be hurting Geralt with his help.

Sometimes Geralt would imagine the songs Jaskier used to sing to him. Not always songs he was trying to write, sometimes just gentle tunes he remembered from his childhood. Geralt would try to imagine the way he used to look in the firelight, tried to remember the words to the songs.

Sometimes, during the hardest times, Geralt would remember Jaskier’s fingers in his hair. Carefully untangling knots, calloused fingertips rubbing oils into his scalp. The feeling of Jaskier’s hand covering his eyes and tipping his head back to wash blood out of his hair without getting any water in Geralt’s eyes. 

He always regretting those thoughts. They tended to end with him wiping tears off his face while he lay cold and alone still desperately far from sleep. Witchers didn’t cry, and they sure as fuck didn’t get to cry about missing something they never deserved to have in the first place.

It went that way for over a month, quiet days with long nights. And for whatever unfathomable reason they still stayed together. Geralt couldn’t make himself tell Jaskier to leave, and surprisingly the bard didn’t seem to plan on going anywhere.

Something had to happen eventually, something had to break.

The had stopped in a sizable city, Geralt had found a contract he planned to look into tomorrow from the city guard about their men disappearing from one of the low traffic gates whenever it was patrolled at night. 

Jaskier had easily received approval from the owner of the massive inn they stayed in to play that night.

That was where he was now, Geralt had been enjoying the welcome peace of solitary silence. He’d restocked some of his potions, taken notes on ingredients he was missing that he could likely get in town, and had finally laid down at the edge of the large bed to try to fall asleep without the painful weight of Jaskier at his side.

He didn’t even expect the bard to return. The city was large, full of potential bedmates that would cry Jaskier’s praises and enjoy a fleeting night with the charming man.

So he was surprised to hear the lock turn even at the late hour. 

Jaskier moved about the room quietly which meant he hadn’t been drinking. Geralt could smell the night of performing on him but not the pleasures of himself or anyone else. He even took the time to wash away any smell in the basin of water they had before climbing in bed behind Geralt.

“I know you’re awake,” Jaskier spoke quietly but in the silence of the room, the words were almost startling. 

Geralt sighed, “do you need something?”

He hadn’t expected Jaskier to come back, hadn’t expected him to speak, but he sure as fuck didn’t expect the hand landing on his hip just before Jaskier saddled up close behind him.

“I was hoping we could re-evaluate this ‘no sex’ thing we’ve been doing. I think it had been going pretty well,” Jaskier said. Geralt was stunned, how was any of that “going well”?

“Don’t touch me,” he growled out, now fully awake and fully pissed off. 

There was a very quiet “okay” behind him and the feeling of Jaskier scooting away.

He was fucking baffled honestly, enough so that he flicked the sheets off of him and got out of the bed. When he turned around Jaskier looked surprised. Sitting up in bed shirtless, now sitting back on his own side where he should have stayed in the first place.

Geralt was wearing only his smallclothes as he stood at the edge of the bed and he assumed that fact probably killed the intensity of his glare. “What do you want Jaskier?”

“I think I made that fairly obvious. I’m not trying to pressure you, you’re a fully grown… Witcher, you can make your own choices. I just want to know what changed? Am I losing my touch? No ones ever complained about my sexual abilities before so if you have a review to leave I’m all ears.” Now Jaskier looked mad too like he was allowed to be mad about this.

Geralt should have thought about it, should have filtered what went from his brain to his mouth but he didn’t, “Jaskier I’m over a hundred years old and you are without a doubt the worst fuck I’ve ever had in my life.”

Geralt even pointed at Jaskier when he said it. He grew even more irritated when he realized the room was once again lit by a large window filling the room with the same blue glow it had the last time they had sex.

Jaskier’s face was blank but Geralt could practically feel him thinking. Eventually, he seemed to try to articulate his thoughts but all he got out was, “oh, I- oh…” 

Geralt felt bad, he shouldn’t but he did. 

“You should just… stick to fucking people you want to fuck. Leave me out of it.” He was tired, Melitele’s tits he was so fucking exhausted by what his life had become. He didn’t want to watch Jaskier’s personal crisis because someone told him he was bad in bed. 

“But I _do_ want to have sex with you,” Jaskier said finally, apparently latching onto his early comment instead of the one around his poor performance. Looking almost confused as he stared across the room at Geralt.

Geralt just snorted and shook his head, “wanting to have sex with someone because you want to have sex is one thing, wanting to have sex with someone because you want to have sex with them is another. Don’t pretend you don’t know the difference.” Geralt was starting to let his irritation show. Jaskier was an idiot at the best of times but this was a little much. 

“ _Hey,”_ Jaskier said, it was loud, assertive, intent on gaining his attention. Geralt looked up at him with a roll of his eyes. “I want to have sex, _with you_.” He stressed, big blue eyes staring directly into Geralt’s, they were focused, and intent. 

Geralt sneered back at him with sharp teeth and a sharper smile, Jaskier even flinched when he started talking, “you want to have sex with me? What a fucking joke, you can’t even look at me when I’m fucking you.”

Jaskier’s eyes flicked over to the winder and his mouth opened and closed like he didn’t know what to say, like he didn’t think Geralt _noticed_. 

“I can see better in the dark than you can, bard. Even in a pitch-black room, you can find a dozen things to look at that aren’t me. I’ve had whores that called me a freak under their breath be more willing to look me in the eye during fucking than you have been. You won’t even let me touch you you’re so uninterested. So no, you’re perfectly capable of finding someone you want to fuck downstairs, you don’t need it so much that you’re going to die if the warm body in your bed doesn’t roll over and give you what you want. Go find a different fucking bed.” 

He said none of that kindly, quite fed up with Jaskier’s bullshit. Geralt had long since learned that even having sex with a willing whore who found him less than human wasn’t worth it. Why bother if both parties weren’t even comfortable with each other?

Geralt had to admit that this had him cursing a Witcher’s abilities to actually feel more than he ever had before. It hurt because Jaskier had never treated him like he was less. From the moment they met in Posada, there hadn’t been a hint of fear behind Jaskier’s eyes. Not when Geralt yelled at him specifically, but also not after he’d watched Geralt pull the head off a drowner with his bare hands, or when he came back from a hunt eyes pitch black from potions. He stood up for Geralt when townspeople called him names as he walked passed, and berated innkeepers who wouldn’t serve him. 

He’d spent years of his life singing Geralt’s praises and stories across the continent but flinched when Geralt tried to smooth a hand up his back while he was balls deep inside of him. Ducked his mouth to avoid his kisses. Rolled away from him the moment they had both finished.

He could talk the talk but couldn’t walk the walk, fitting for a man who made his life out of telling stories. 

Geralt never would have known if they hadn’t started having sex. He would have forever believed the bard that had become his closest friend actually saw him as an equal, as someone he believed in, trusted. Someone whose craft he actually valued and whose worth he saw so much he was willing to dedicate ballads to his accomplishments and get in fistfights in sticky taverns over the slightest injustice directed his way. 

Learning that he was wrong, that some part of Jaskier was just like every other human Geralt had ever met? That was devastating. 

That had ruined a part of Geralt he doesn’t think he’ll ever get back.

As they sat there in silence he thought not for the first time, that he couldn’t do this anymore. 

“I think it’s best if you stay here after this contract, I should start heading North anyway.” He shouldn’t, he wouldn’t even need to move in the direction of Kaer Mohren for another month or so. But it was an open-ended out. An “I need to go, maybe we’ll see each other next year” kind of an out. The only one Geralt had ever been capable with Jaskier because he unbelievably wanted the bard around. He liked it when Jaskier was with him… or he used to. Maybe a winter reset was all he would need to forget what Jaskier felt like inside of him, or more importantly what it felt like when he pulled away. 

“You’re right,” Jaskier started ignoring him, and Geralt didn’t want to hear it, he felt his lip curl again as he started to shake his head. But he looked up, he was going to _make_ Jaskier say it to his face. “You’re right, it’s always been different with you.”

Jaskier seemed willing to meet Geralt’s eyes, even though he could see his hands twisting in his lap out in his peripheral vision. The sight of the bard half-clothed in their shared bed was too fucking much.

“I don’t have anything to lose with anyone else, there’s nothing- nothing to be afraid of, nothing to worry about,” he spoke calmly. Geralt had to wonder if his face had changed at the word ‘afraid’ because the one person in his very long life who he believed wasn’t scared of him just…

He laughed and shook his head but the laugh didn’t match his eyes as they glistened, the bright blue covered in a gloss of unshed tears. But he continued on, “I have so much to lose here, Geralt, and I couldn’t- I _can’t lose you.”_

Geralt let his head hang, he didn't want to say it but they both knew it was true. “You already have,” Geralt replied. 

The words hung heavy in the room.

“Yeah,” Jaskier finally said with a jerky nod, “yeah I did.” He was smiling up at Geralt as he said it. A painful, genuine smile that didn’t match the tear rolling down his cheek.

Geralt wanted to wipe it away, hold him close until he felt better again. But he’d never been allowed that, why would it happen now?

“I should have left it alone, I should have left you alone, I didn’t mean to-” he cut himself off, finally looking away from Geralt with a shake of his head, one hand coming up to quickly wipe away his tears like that would stop Geralt from noticing them.

“What did you mean to do Jaskier? What was the point? We were _fine_ …” Geralt stopped himself as his voice changed at the word fine. It had been cracked and broken, just like Geralt was. He hoped Jaskier hadn’t noticed, but he didn’t notice much about Geralt anymore so why would he?

“I know, I- I know,” Jaskier buried his face in his hands, keeping himself propped up with his elbows on his knees where his legs were folded in front of him. He spoke to the sheets on his lap after that, “I thought I could handle it, I thought I could keep it impartial, that we- that we could still be just friends,” he choked out a laugh, “sorry I know you hate that word.”

Geralt was conflicted, he didn’t hate the word it just made him nervous. But he didn’t like that Jaskier was hiding from him half curled into himself across the room. So he made his way over, around the bed on Jaskier’s side to sit down in front of him. 

A silent plea of ‘look at me, why won’t you ever look at me?’

“I thought… I thought I could be selfish with what I wanted and find a way that you would still look at me the same the next day,” he laughed again and finally looked up at Geralt, unsurprised to now see him a few feet away on the bed. “Clearly that didn’t fucking work,” he said, dropping his hands in his lap.

His smiles were the worst part. They were some of the most genuine ones Geralt had seen in months but they came with pain in his eyes, and tears smeared around his face since they hadn’t been able to escape when he had been hiding away.

He was beautiful, still as beautiful in the heartbreaking light of the moon as he had been before. An untouchable beauty Geralt would never have for himself. He didn’t smile back at Jaskier.

“I’m sorry, Geralt,” he whispered. It was genuine and heartbreaking. The words twisted under Geralt’s ribs like a knife. 

Jaskier had lost his best friend.

But Geralt had lost _everything_.

He blinked and found his eyes heavy with tears as well. He’d cried more in the last month that he could remember doing in his entire lifetime. He was so tired. He let his eyes close, a moment of vulnerability in front of the only person he had ever felt safe with, and said the one thing he had told himself a thousand times he would take to his grave.

“I love you, I trusted you.”

Jaskier’s expression morphed instantly, the painful smile sliding off his face as his mouth dropped open. Fresh tears ran down his cheeks from wide eyes and when he spoke it came out so faint even Geralt could barely hear him, “no, no you don’t.”

Geralt shook his head and looked away. He wasn’t angry anymore he just felt heavy, exhausted at not just the conversation but his own loss. 

“I exist to walk the path, and to walk it alone and somewhere I got confused. My purpose in life is to kill monsters, after I met you that wasn’t enough, I wanted to be king in your stories. I didn’t live for the path but for you. It wasn’t your mistake, Jaskier, it was mine.” He finally gave him a smile back as he finished. He hoped it was comforting. 

Jaskier hadn’t done anything wrong, Geralt had put too much on him. Leaned on him for so much for so long.

“No,” Jaskier started to shake his head frantically, “no you stupid- no that’s not how this works. You can’t just-” He sobbed and all Geralt could do was clench his jaw and look away. 

“No, _look at me_ ,” Jaskier said through his tears. It wasn’t until he had looked back at Jaskier that warm hands came up to cup his cheeks. He had to fight against letting his eyes close at the feeling. Against nuzzling into the touch. 

“I’ve never wanted anything- anyone like I’ve wanted you, Geralt,” Jaskier said it so earnestly, and when Geralt went to shake his head at the comment Jaskier held him still. “I thought if you truly knew how much I loved you that you would leave. I’ve never felt happier than I’ve been at your side, I didn’t know peace until I met you. I’ve been so desperate my whole life to find somewhere I belong, to find my place in the world and it wasn’t until I met you that I knew where that was.” Jaskier’s thumb caught a tear before it could roll down Geralt’s cheek.

“I knew I’d fucked up when we started having sex because I wanted it so much. I had found my place, my happiness and then I wanted to pretend that you could love me as I loved you? I had to keep you at arm’s length so I didn’t lose everything.” His words were quick and desperate, but the ache in his heart had turned into a warm pressure. Hope.

Jaskier took a deep breath, “I love you, Geralt.”

Geralt took a moment to watch him. His face was open, no tells that he was lying and Geralt had learned them all well over the years. Geralt let himself reach out and put a hand on Jaskier’s knee just to be met with a shaky smile.

“I love you too,” he said in return.

Jaskier nodded quickly, “I don’t want to lose you, I want to stay with you for as long as you’ll let me.”

Geralt nodded back, “forever, I’ll always want to be by your side.”

And Jaskier laughed, not for the first time that night. Not like he had laughed at his own pain, but now more at the absurdity of it all. Even Geralt felt his heart skip in his chest and he let himself smile at the long-missing sight of his happy bard.

Then Jaskier was pushing himself forward, up and into Geralt’s lap, and using his hands on his face to pull him into a kiss. 

Their kiss was just as hot and heavy as it had been in the past but the desperation that laced it wasn’t a goodbye but a hello. 

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier and pulled him in tight. It almost felt like their first time, and in several ways, Geralt knew it was one. Geralt believed him, he really did. If anyone was going to fuck up starting a relationship it would be the man who’s never had one and a man who’s had an army of lovers but none substantial.

Geralt hadn’t even dreamed he’d get to have a relationship but here he was, a laughing bard squirming in his lap so he could pull back and kiss the scars on his face and meet his slitted amber eyes with a look of pure happiness.

“Now-” Jaskier started, cutting himself off so he could lick into Geralt’s mouth. “We do not have to have sex but I can promise-,” Geralt lifted him up a bit in his lap and covered his mouth with his own again. Jaskier let him until he groaned and pulled away, Geralt immediately went for his neck. “I _promise_ it will be the best sex we’ve ever had.”

Geralt let out a little, “Hmm,” his teeth still wrapped around the curve in Jaskier’s body where his neck met his shoulder. 

“Do you want that?” He asked the human, a genuine question. He didn’t know how quickly they could turn sex into a good experience for the two of them but there was a heat burning in the bottom of his stomach just at the weight of Jaskier in his lap, so he was pretty confident they could improve their sex lives quite quickly.

“Yes, fucking Melitele- _yes_ Geralt. What do you want? What did we miss?” Jaskier asked openly. His hips bucked down as Geralt licked at his collarbones and slid a hand up his chest just to card through the hair there.

What did he want? What did they miss?

Geralt used a hand on Jaskier’s ass to pick him up, just enough to dump him on his back on the bed. Jaskier’s legs immediately went around his waist and an arm wrapped around his shoulders as he settled above him. He had moaned at the move and Geralt was pleased he’d liked it. 

“I want to fuck you like this, is that okay?” Geralt asked. Face to face with Jaskier beneath him, as basic of a fuck as someone could have but he just wanted to see him for the first time. 

“Yeah, yeah yeah yeah, Geralt please,” Jaskier’s hands reached down to push Geralt’s smallclothes around the curve of his ass, moving the fabric just enough to replace it with his fingers and squeeze. 

Geralt snorted and moved them both around until they were completely naked before he hooked Jaskier’s legs back up on his hips and lay back down on top of him. 

He trapped their dicks between them and ground down, blindsided by the sight of Jaskier moaning and tossing his head back at the feeling. He ducked his mouth against his exposed neck again. Sucking little bruises up the soft skin until he could push their lips together again.

When Jaskier began squirming underneath his weight he remembered something else he wanted.

“Will you let me get you ready? I want to feel you on my fingers,” he asked, pulling back enough to look at Jaskier. 

Jaskier let out a wounded noise at the question. “If you finger me I’m going to come, I’ll spoil all our fun early,” he said it as a warning, but in a tone that seemed happy enough at the possibility. All he had to do was twist to the side to pull out a vial Geralt had not noticed him bring to bed earlier but was now very grateful for. 

Geralt took it from him with a grin and a final question, “what do _you_ want? What did we miss?”

“Oh I also very very much would like your fingers inside of me, and I’m not kidding I might be so happy when it happens I make a mess of us both,” he said that with a dreamy look on his face as he pulled a hand full of the fingers in question up to his face. “They’re so big and long,” his eyelashes fluttered as he took two of Geralt’s fingers into his mouth. His tongue twisted around them as he sucked them in and he was surprised at how nice it felt all on its own. 

“Anything else?” Geralt asked kissing along Jaskier’s jaw to feel him working at Geralt’s fingers through the skin.

He slowly pulled his fingers out so he could get a reply, and so he could add oil to the slick mess they already were.

“Your mouth, I want your mouth on me,” Jaskier asked.

“Where?” Geralt wanted specifics.

“Everywhere-” he admitted before Geralt closed his lips around a nipple that peeked out of the hair on his chest, “There, see there is good, but I also would not turn down the chance to feel you on my cock.”

Direct, to the point, goddess they were good at this shit when they actually communicated.

Geralt let himself pay a little attention to Jaskier’s other nipple before finally sliding down his body. He got to run his clean fingers down his chest, bite at his hip bones, and kiss down the happy trail that led to his dick. 

With the hope that Jaskier would indulge some of his less human quirks he even allowed himself to bury his face between Jaskier’s dick and his thigh. Drinking in the scent of Jaskier himself and human.

Jaskier groaned a slid a hand in his hair so he didn’t seem to oppose at least. 

Geralt turned to mouth at the base of Jaskier’s cock while his unoiled fingers rolled the sac in his hand just below his mouth. He didn’t move to take Jaskier in just yet though. Instead, he looked up so he could watch him as his slick fingers rubbed at the delicate skin of Jaskier’s asshole, testing it gently before sliding a finger inside.

He worked it in slowly but pushed forward until Jaskier was practically sitting in his hand. Jaskier moaned and bent forward as it happened, his grip tightening in Geralt’s hair in a way that had him moaning back.

When he started to move his finger, curling it against Jaskier’s insides, he also dipped his head to take his cock in his mouth. 

“Geralt…” He heard come out breathlessly from Jaskier above him.

For the first time ever he bobbed his head on Jaskier’s dick, getting to feel the weight of it in his mouth, getting to taste him. He slid his head up and down in time with the finger he used to stroke Jaskier’s insides and for the first time, he felt like he got to truly hear the singer in bed. 

And Jaskier sang.

He was so vocal. His voice came out in hums and whimpers and when he said it, Geralt’s name rolled off his tongue just as easily as it used to. When he pushed another slick finger inside the man below him Jaskier even called him darling.

His breath came at an irregular beat opposite the fluttering of his heart. Geralt coaxed the tempo up himself as his fingers rubbed against Jaskier’s inner walls, gentle and fleeting over the most sensitive parts inside of him. Or at least right up until they weren’t, and Geralt pressed his fingers in just right while he fisted Jaskier’s cock into his mouth.

Jaskier curled forward in a silent scream as he came, his voice cracking in halfway through to cry out as Geralt swallowed down his spend and slowed the fingers he was curling inside of him.

Jaskier went limp as he finished. Dropping his limbs onto the bed short of a light tugging in Geralt’s hair to pull him back up so they could lay together.

“Are you trying to tell me, we could have been having that kind of sex the whole time? We’re not even done and it’s better than anything we’ve gotten up to together before!” Jaskier was loud for a man that looked a bit wrung out. 

Geralt pulled him closer after wiping off his hand and kissed him on the top of the head before saying, “would you make fun of me if I said at least we could have this now and going forward?” It came out a little mumbled through Jaskier’s hair.

He curled closer and sighed as Jaskier’s hand found Geralt’s hard dick against his hip, “no, I think that’s romantic and I think I like you as a romantic type.” 

“Mmm,” was all he got out in reply as he rolled half on top of him to lazily push into Jaskier’s fist. But he did duck his head down to kiss him again, hopefully, that was romantic enough. Although Geralt had a feeling the bard himself would provide more than enough moments of dramatic romancing.

“I still want you to fuck me,” Jaskier said, making Geralt moan. “I can go again,” he said before giving Geralt a filthy kiss before finishing with, “and you want to fuck me so bad I can taste it.”

All Geralt could do was let out a soft “fuck,” and roll back on top of him.

Jaskier wrapped his legs back around Geralt’s waist with a laugh and used his arms around his shoulders to drag him down for another kiss. “Come on now my dear Witcher. Fuck me sweetly on my back like I’m your blushing new bride,” Jaskier cooed at him, letting him go just so Geralt could sit back and oil himself up.

“There’s nothing virginal about you, Bard. We both know you moan sweeter than a well-paid whore,” Jaskier let out a huff of a laugh at Geralt’s words like he had found them funny but they equally turned him on.

“Come on then, I want to watch your face when you push inside of me, we’ll see who’s sweet then, Darling,” he replied with a smirk. Geralt liked being called Darling.

Geralt laughed as he propped Jaskier up on top of his thighs. He held one of Jaskier’s legs out of his way while he guided himself inside of him, sinking slowly into the warm heat he’d been dreaming of.

They moaned together when Geralt started to rock forward. He found a tight grip on the bard’s hips that he used to hold him there as he fucked into him. Jaskier was all spread out before him, hair-covered chest already heaving under his deep breaths. But even more beautiful were his bright eyes staring up at Geralt through messy hair. Watching him with a smile on his face even through his moans.

Geralt dropped down on top of him to get closer and feel his warmth. The angle change had Jaskier crying out and bucking down to meet Geralt but he settled after he reached up to wrap his arms around Geralt’s shoulders so they could rock together. 

Through his thrusts, Geralt reached up to brush away Jaskier’s hair, underneath them were the blue eyes Geralt had been looking for all year. Something on his face was enough to make Jaskier laugh and pull him down for a quick kiss. Geralt was just happy to refind the man that had taught him life could be about more than putting one foot in front of the other. It could be about happiness, music, and love. 

He felt Jaskier’s hand sneak between their bodies and around his own dick as Geralt’s thrusts became staggered and desperate. Through the blinding bliss of his orgasm, he felt Jaskier’s walls clench around him as he came as well. Their come made absolute messes of one another in a way that made Geralt let out a happy sigh. 

They came down panting in each other’s space, Jaskier even gave him another gentle kiss as Geralt pulled out of him. Despite a groan from his bard Geralt used the last of his energy to get up and wet a cloth to wipe them both down with.

Jaskier eventually tugged it out of his hand and tossed it away so he could pull Geralt back to his side, tucked under the blankets.

“So tonight we learned that despite the constant stream of nonsense from my mouth that maybe we need to work on our communication skills,” Jaskier said, running his fingers through Geralt’s hair as he tucked his head under the human’s chin.

“Mmm, I’m just glad to hear you talking again,” Geralt mumbled into the side of his neck, exhausted but sated.

“Amazing, that’s the second most absurd thing I’ve heard you say tonight!”

“Shh, go to sleep with the knowledge I meant them both and never want to hear about the second one again.”

Jaskier was quiet so Geralt propped himself up just a little so he could say the most absurd thing one more time before a hopefully blissful night of sleep.

“Jaskier,” he started, Jaskier looked at him with wide eyes but a smile on his face as he waited, “I love you.”

The grin on Jaskier’s face then was worth the fact that he would remember Geralt saying he liked to hear him talk tomorrow morning almost immediately after they woke up still tangled in each other’s limbs.

“I love you too, Geralt,” he said back, planting a kiss on the Witcher’s nose like he wasn’t in bed with a dangerous monster-slaying mutant. Geralt huffed a laugh and had to be thankful for Jaskier’s lack of self-preservation skills at some point he supposed.

They settled together on the bed and Geralt got to appreciate the warmth of the body next to his with the cool tones of the light shining in the window. He was right, Jaskier looked beautiful in blue.

**Author's Note:**

> “I want to be king in your story” line/title from the song Power Over Me by Dermot Kennedy
> 
> You can follow me at [@theburningbread](https://twitter.com/theburningbread) on Twitter! I'm the most active there :)
> 
> Or you can follow [my Tumblr!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/flanderamander)
> 
> I'm working on a few different fics for these two so hopefully, I'll be posting again soon. The Witcher fandom was very kind to my last fic which I appreciate a ton, thank you! :)


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